Rose Red, Dragon Blue
by Jade Crimson Tears
Summary: Tabloidshipping. You say. Love is a temple. Love a higher law. You ask me to enter. But then you make me crawl. And I can't keep holding on. To what you got. 'Cause all you've got is hurt. - Mary J Blige / U2. Kaiba x Mokuba
1. Chapter 1

Rose Red, Dragon Blue

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_Disclaimer: I do __NOT__ own Yugioh_

_Rating: __M__ for incest, yaoi, profanity _

Author: Jade Li (jade-crimson-tears)

Beta: AnkhAscendant, Salkiethia

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**Chapter 1**

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If someone were to ask me how I felt about it at the time, I would say that I had felt good enough.

If someone were to ask me how it felt at the time, I would say that it had felt like salvation.

But I was foolish to believe that I could hold onto anything this good. It was a momentary letting-go, a slip of control and nothing more. I was too damaged to make it last, more like slamming the walls back up with triple the security after allowing Mokuba to glimpse into the fortress I had worked so hard to maintain.

Mokuba had intended to sustain my life with his love. Did he really think that I would willingly give up dying – the ultimate form of control, just because it was now my turn to play out the damsel in distress? I wouldn't be so selfish as to allow him to take on the role of the savior. I was however, selfish enough to run like a bat out of hell when the most fitting opportunity arose. It was naive of Mokuba to think that for once, my love would be strong enough to withstand the darkness of my heart. I never did damage control, and he should have known better.

In spite of Mokuba's intelligence and experience, he was gullible when it came to the subject of happily-ever-afters. I could only blame it on his age.

I had always believed that it was better to never knew hope at all, than possessing it, only to have it dashed into a million pieces. It would not be possible to put them back together, the remaining shards of false hope, because they cut so deep that every time I touch them, I begin to bleed.

Because in the end, it was all just a trick Mokuba played to tie me down to the realm of the living.

I had to believe in that, rather. I didn't know the plausibility of that statement, but it was a better gamble than supposing that Mokuba fell for the person – if one could call it that – I had become; that he saw me at my worst, accepted me for who I am, and cherished me as if I was the most precious thing in the world; that he loved me unconditionally, even if I had nothing to offer in return, nothing but empty promises and a broken body.

As I recall it, the kiss was airy at first, with our lips barely touching. There were fleeting and gentle caresses, until Mokuba took the initiative and pushed me against the wall. Looking into his eyes, I knew the sexual tension between us could only be left unattended for so long. I didn't remember who did what and when from that point onwards. There were sighs, gasps, moans, screams… the only thing I could feel was heat, and the friction, hot as Mokuba's mouth and searing like my hellish desires, escalating exponentially as our bodies danced in passionate unison. My breathing was erratic, my eyes became unfocused, the rhythm fastened, my movements went out of control. I didn't think about whether I could withstand it, didn't care if I got burned down to a crisp. I wanted this, needed this, told myself that after I had this it would change my mind about the whole dying business and falling in love with the idea of falling in love with a good lay to top it off would bribe me out of my unhappiness and everything in my life would return to the closest thing to functional…

Of course none of that was true. The notion didn't dawn on me until I lay spent in the darkness hours after my release, finally coming to the realization that in the process of claiming Mokuba as my own, he had used his body to anchor me to earth, both physically and metaphorically, and succeeded with surprising grace.

I had played right into Mokuba's trap. My infatuation with him grew stronger as each second passed by, trapping me effectively with him, in this dimension, although not for much longer if I could help it. Mokuba may have been skilled enough to keep me here, may even have earned the right to do so, but a dragon tamer such as myself could not be caged up like an animal. It just wouldn't be right. It wouldn't be right at all.

So the first thing I did in the morning was to handpick a rose. I was always one for symbols and motifs, an even greater one for dramatic exits. I needed to do decent damage the first time round, make the blow count, because Mokuba, for all he had done for me, didn't deserve to be hurt twice. If I was going to break him irreparably, the least I could do was not to drag it out.

"Love and lust are two very different things," I said to my own flesh and blood. "I wanted your body, never your heart."

Mokuba's expression was frozen, frozen except for the slight quiver in his bottom lip as betrayal glistened a little too brightly in his widened eyes. The signs were obvious enough to tell me that my dart had hit home. I threw the God forsaken flower across the room, not bothering to look to know that it aimed straight for Mokuba's heart. The windows were open and my trench coat billowed around me as I turned to leave everything behind.

After all, a lover's thorned rose was just as capable of drawing blood as the remaining shards of false hope.

Mokuba needed to get a taste of his own medicine, and I was obliged to return the favour.

But that was not it. It would not be accurate to say that I was seeking vengeance. Death took his time in playing cat-and-mouse with me. I was only refusing to be controlled by adding in my own catalyst.

Because now that I had broken Mokuba, there were no more excuses left for me to keep breathing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

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"Initiate program Kisara."

My voice echoed off the walls of the underground laboratory, until the deep rumbles of my dragons replaced it. Three mighty beasts emerged before me, gracing me with their presence. As always, they came to my aid in times of need.

Blue-Eyes White Dragon, it surprised me to this day that someone with as much darkness as I could possess such magnificent creatures of light. I found my way to my dragons, unlikely as it was; undeserving as I was, my dragons considered me to be more than worthy. Opposites could attract, but I couldn't help but to think that fate brought us together because it had a thing for ironies.

Of course there was the other alternative that I was in denial and was secretly into the heart of the cards.

I was being sarcastic.

In spite of everything, my dragons served me well over the years, mostly as warriors, fighting at the battlefront; actually, "well" was the understatement of the century. There was a time when the only meaning of their existence in my deck was to give themselves up as sacrifice, even then they had complied. Their place in the spotlight had been stolen, but their loyalty to me was here to last.

The power of my dragons was exhilarating at first. It was I who fell out of love with it, quickly moving on to a stronger, better card without so much as a hesitation. Three Blue-Eyes combined were not enough to feed my greed. Obelisk was a God. What a God offered to me at the time was incomparable to any monster I had ever owned. Funny that it took losing the only God card I possessed for me to realize that although Obelisk was once my most powerful card, Blue-Eyes remained to be my eternal favorite.

My pride-and-joy, aside from Mokuba, the only thing left that was real and true.

There were always privileges that came with the package of being the center of my attention. The ones that didn't mean shit to me, I ignored and therefore spared. The ones that mattered however, I obsessively made sure that they met with an unfortunate end. Mokuba I had already broken, and the fourth Blue-Eyes I tore up to pieces. I tended to destroy the things that I liked. It had something to do with either my masochistic nature or Gozaburo's sadistic training.

I also believed that one of these days, cutting off the attachments that kept stringing me along would enable me to die in peace.

I didn't want to care, not really. I couldn't care for my own life, let alone anything or anyone in it.

I had always been intrigued by the idea of being struck by lightning. There was something immensely satisfying about that notion – to be rid of the burden of living as one surrendered oneself to the natural forces. According to the world record, some poor (or should I say luck-struck) idiot experienced seven lightning strikes in his lifetime and managed to survive, only to take his own life in the end, reportedly suffering a lover's broken heart. I was not Lady Luck's favorite son. Even if I went out of my way to attract authentic lightning with some high-tech device, I doubt that I'd get anything remotely interesting. So to make myself feel better, I improvised and settled for the next best thing.

It was the only way to express gratitude, but more importantly, my remorse. Years of servitude could not be compensated by a mere decision such as this, yet I could not come up with a more decent way to repay my debt to Blue-Eyes. Knowing that I went by the hands of my dragons – the embodiment of pride and dignity itself – was enough for me. I couldn't have wished for a more perfect death.

"Blue-Eyes, each take your turn to attack me directly with White Lightning!"

Three spheres of electrical energy were forming at the throats of my dragons. Their anguished cries struck chords of sweet melancholy, their roar of mourning wove into a song of remembrance to my ears. They released their attack on me unwillingly. I knew that they didn't want to do this, but that was irrelevant. As soon as this was all over, they would be freed from my control.

The aim of a Blue-Eyes could never be off, I was struck thrice consecutively. Drowning in a pool of blazing white, my throat and lungs burned like fire. It was as if I had undergone a transformation to become a dragon myself. I shrieked, partially in agony and partially out of curiosity. For some odd reason I imagined to see flames spitting out of my mouth as I chanced opening it, since that was certainly what it felt like, but I only coughed up blood instead.

"Blue-Eyes, go again, White Lightning attack!"

Three beams hit me squarely in the chest with a speed faster than light. I was knocked off my feet, the air out of me; my vomit stained the ground a dark crimson red. I gathered myself to stand, waiting patiently for the dizzy spell to pass. The sand in my hourglass was finally about to run out. I could feel the breath of Death fanning down my face. Savoring the moment with devilish glee, I activated the magic of polymerization.

"My tern dragon, awaken from thy slumber and hear my call, I summon thee for the last time. Blue-Eyes Ultimate Dragon, obey me and come forth!"

And there it stood, the weapon of my destruction, all strength and power and grace and boundless honor. The slender necks, the proud heads, the sharp claws, the mighty wings… I stared into the piercing blue eyes of my ultimate dragon and gasped.

I had never seen anything more beautiful.

"Blue-Eyes Ultimate Dragon… Neutron Blast!"

Like the cleansing of the soul, like the ascension of the spirit.

Like an appeal for absolution, although damnation was much closer to home.

Like the scalding away of sins, like the ultimate attempt to heal.

The seventh blow had become my seventh seal.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

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Everything fell into place. The ultimate dragon was attacking and nothing, no one, could stop me now. I threw my head back – my laughter sounded hysterical, until I heard something that didn't quite fit into the jigsaw.

"_Kisara!"_

The force of the seventh attack should've been enough to kill me. To my dismay, it made contact with my body and splintered into a thousand smithereens. If I believed in hocus-pocus, I'd say that some wannabe princess' nosy fairy godmother turned surges of electricity into stardust. Feathery-light they fell, on and all around me, illuminating my void of a universe that consisted of nothing but hollow black. Why didn't it burn? The light specks shone so brightly. Was I beyond pain?

No phoenix was shedding tears on my behalf – my rationality had informed me, it was time that I got my head out the clouds. I dug up the earlier 'something' I heard for clue and deciphered it. Apparently, the activation of the voice key Kisara overrode all other commands; the safeguards had been turned on.

Fuming, I turned to face my knight in shining armor. "You thought that ruining my life wasn't good enough, so you decided to ruin my death as well?"

If I was pissed off as hell, Mokuba was livid with rage. "You think that a few well-chosen words you half believed at the time could push me away enough so I'd let you _die_ on me?"

"That was the plan, yes." I replied darkly.

Mokuba shook all over; his breathing was audible enough to be heard. I felt the intensity of that gaze I knew so well and averted my eyes, (hell, it surprised me that I wasn't smoldering already,) and noticed something I should've picked up ages ago had I been paying attention.

Mokuba's hand was clenched around a rose, so tightly that the thorns broke his skin and jabbed into the flesh. I panicked, the words leaving my mouth before I could stop them. "You're bleeding."

"Which are you referring to? My hand, or my heart?"

I said nothing. That was a question I had no answer for.

"If you are trying to make me hate you by staying anal and aloof, in the hopes that I'd leave you, maybe even give you a blessing and send you on your way, you're a baka. That's never gonna happen, mark my words, because I won't allow you to off yourself, do you hear me? I will never give up on you, ever! I don't care if I have to show up at Enma's door just to drag your ass back here, I'll do it."

"Why?" I asked, unmoved, "what's in it for you?"

"The short answer is I love you. Fuck, in case you couldn't tell, I'm in love with you. The long answer is that there's a special place in my heart that's reserved, just for you. If you leave, you will take the most important part of my heart with you, and my world will never be the same again. That's why, because I cannot imagine a life without you in it. If you can't handle the 'I love you' thing, then accept that to me, living isn't living, unless it's with you."

"It's not up to me to give you a reason to exist." I said quietly.

"But it's up to you to make sure that I subsist, is it not?" Mokuba challenged.

I narrowed my eyes. "What are you trying to imply?"

"Nothing other than the fact that for every wound you carve onto yourself, I'm capable of making deeper gashes of my own. If you attempt to bleed dry, I'll just have to make sure mine's lethal."

I was giddy with fury, could feel the temperature of my blood rising a couple of degrees higher. "Are you threatening me?"

"Only if you make me. The power's all yours, Nisama, just the way you like it." Mokuba finished calmly.

"I honestly didn't know you could hit that low." My hiss was dripping with venom. Two can play that game.

"I learned from the best." Mokuba fired back, proud jaw held high. "The same hypocrite told me, once upon a time, to hold on to my life card above all else. Survival is victory in disguise, he said. Surrender the chance to change, forfeit that choice, and it's the ultimate game over."

I didn't think he'd remember. I had certainly forgotten the meaning behind that particular talk I gave not too long after Gozaburo jumped out the window of the corporate headquarters.

I believed it then. What had changed? Since when had suicide become the better option?

Since I realized I couldn't win – the answer was obvious now – because Gozaburo, dead but not down, already won our game before it begun. It didn't matter that his body was rotting in the ground, it was only an illusion he fed me to hide immortality up his sleeve. I drank hungrily, got so wrapped up in that intoxicating sweetness I failed to see what was coming until it hit me right between the eyes. By then it was too little too late. Gozaburo had instilled a monstrosity in me infernal enough to ensure that I would never break free from his control.

I remembered that moment clearly. Time froze over as I took felicity in examining the bloody mess that was splattered onto the sidewalk, brain juices and all. Apathy settled over me like a blanket, putting my heart to sleep. I smiled. It was a nightmare I didn't want to wake up from.

Suddenly my eyes drifted off Mokuba, the world spun and I was falling. It seemed as if I was jumping off the edge.

…and fell into the arms of someone dear to me, because only a special one could hold me that securely, so perfectly. It was a different kind of comfort. It radiated warmth, promised love – I felt the fire of life. I almost wished I could stay in them forever.

"Come home to me Seto, away from the pain."

"Moki…"

"I'm here," Mokuba whispered into my ear, his fingers tracing gentle butterflies across my chest. "Right inside your heart. You may not have known it, but I was here all along."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

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I woke to the sound of Mokuba's heartbeat. It reminded me of mom's somehow.

I didn't know how long I spent lying in Mokuba's arms, inhaling in his scent and begging sanctuary in the only haven I've got. I had the strange notion that mom would have wanted it, for both our sakes. It was as if I missed missing her.

The hole in me where mom's presence used to fill, Mokuba had taken up now. The memory of that particular transition stung still, and my breathing patterns must have changed because Mokuba tightened his hold on me a moment later. It was like he was shielding me from the world, and myself, if it ever came to it.

I tried to build a tower around the two of us. If Mokuba was the princess, I was the wicked witch who destroyed in the name of guardianship. Over time, the protected had come to need protection from his protector. I gave him no reason to reach out. No one else was real enough to Mokuba, because no one could ever take my place.

Should I take gratification in that accomplishment, the voice inside my head asked in mockery.

At the end of the day, Yami and his other half saved both Mokuba and me, and that particular truth was like a clown's balloon – no matter how much I try to sit on it, the rubber bits I couldn't cover with my body always bubbled up to engulf me. I could never truly make all of it go down – underneath my behind and at the back of my mind – where it should stay but would not. I heaved, suddenly there wasn't enough air to breathe. My eyes snapped open and the first thing that caught my attention was the hand draping over me, as bloody as the rose it clasped and just as painful to look at. I winced inwardly. "Would you let go of that damn thing already?"

Mokuba shrugged and fondled with his rose. "I find it beautiful. The reason I treasure it is because it's the closest you came to saying 'I love you'."

"Why are you here?" I questioned disbelievingly. "Why are you still here, with me?"

"Had pushing me away made you so short-sighted that you couldn't even see what was right in front of you? When I slept with you, I accepted you wholly, thorns and all."

That was just about the most romantic thing, considering most people dreaded approaching me under normal circumstances. As for the ones who were stupid enough to try romance with me, the ice in my glare chased their courtship skills out the window and them, out the door every time.

I wasn't one to act on impulse, but the way I licked Mokuba's palm challenged that assumption soundly. I sucked on his fingers, letting the metallic taste sit on my tongue and relishing it. If I didn't know better, I'd say the gesture fed an addiction.

"What are you doing?" Mokuba pulled his hand away as if he had been burned, and I growled in disappointment.

"Give it to me, I just have to finish disinfecting your hand and then–"

"Then what, Seto? Do I look like a fucking express ticket to hell to you?"

"No," I replied breathlessly, ignoring the hurt in Mokuba's voice. "Right now you are my closest way to heaven."

Mokuba was writhing under me as I straddled his waist. "You need to talk, not fuck. Sex won't solve anything and you know it. It's just another escape for you. Nn!"

I silenced Mokuba with a bruising kiss, wanting him more than ever. "I'm perfectly capable of multi-tasking. I can talk and fuck at the same time."

Mokuba let out a cry that was somewhere between a protest and a whimper that begged for more. The tears that rolled down his flushed cheeks were helpless, hopeless even, as he arched into my touch.

"Don't cry. You know I can't stand it when you cry," I hissed, grinding against that hot body underneath me, my own voice was close to breaking. "I don't know why I'm doing this either. I hate how much I need you, how much control I lose over you, so I blame you for it, hurt you for it. How dare you delude me into believing that I deserve better than this hellhole that is my own doing, that maybe there is a reason to stick around and push it through, because I'm with you, because your very existence gives meaning to mine. I hate the way you make me weak with just one kiss, leaving me vulnerable and exposed, you can always read me like an open book, yet I've never felt stronger nor more sure of myself. I hate the way I obsess over you, the way I try to fight you, loathe the way you break down my resolve and make me fall in love with you all over again. The amount of power you have over me…"

"And what of the spell you cast over me? The way I can never let you go no matter what you do, the way I cannot stop loving you no matter what you say?" Mokuba clung to me, yelling words of assurance against my lips. "Don't you know that I belong to you, Seto? I am yours, through and through and through!"

That had sent both of us over the edge. I shut my eyes tightly, fighting back the urge to groan.

"Do you think we're fucked up?" I whispered after enough time had passed for us to recollect ourselves.

"Our love is unusual, Seto. Given the context and the circumstance, any two people – even blood related siblings, would've turned out the way we did. You're not the only one to blame, so don't give yourself all the credit. If I weren't born, you wouldn't have been parentless in the first place. If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't have needed to make that sacrifice which killed you from the inside out."

"I don't regret my decision in choosing Gozaburo, I just get a little uncertain about it at times. But your entrance into the world… it wasn't even your decision to make, so why are you feeling responsible for the consequences of something you had no influence over?"

"Because like you, I can't help but to think that if I were dead, people would be better off."

I lunged forward, my arms instinctively wrapping around Mokuba's shaking form. "Don't. There's no need to feel that way, because I love you, Mokuba, I know it now. As long as you believe in me, as long as you are by my side, alive and well, I'll be okay, we'll be okay, and nothing else matters."

In my mind, I pictured mom's all-knowing smile.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

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Over the past few days, all we did was fight. When we weren't fighting, we fucked. There were rare moments of truce between us, but they were built on foundations of sand and were just as easily swept away by the smallest tide of anger or pain.

While I was too angry to be hurt, Mokuba was too hurt to be angry. We were both too jaded to do anything that resembled mending, but that didn't mean I wasn't going to try. I had wasted enough time stagnating. If dying wasn't an option anymore, I may as well move forward to the best of my ability, and that meant doing something constructive.

I drove us into the woodlands, away from urbanization. When it got too difficult to travel by vehicle, I took Mokuba through the mass of green on foot. As we arrived at our destination, Mokuba eyed between the moss-covered gate and the oversized key in my hand. "For a refuge this personal, I was expecting you to swipe a card, do fingerprint-scans, a retina-check even. But please… a rusty old key?"

Mokuba's laughter rang through the air like wind chimes and I shook my head, smiling despite myself. "Come on, you haven't even seen the inside and you're already putting it in a box."

Yet in a way, Mokuba had termed it right. What lay beyond this gate did not serve to spite or deceive, for it was a haven. I took off my mask here, shed a layer of skin so soiled and over-used it made me forget why I had it on in the first place. It was a tactic to survive, as there had been no other way to stay in the game. But I never intended for the appearance I put up to become all of me, except that it happened anyway, had ended up being the only thing I could fall back on, and Mokuba fought to change that with everything he possessed and more.

Upon entering, Mokuba stretched out his arms at the landscape before us and chirped happily. "Oh Seto, if I thought that you've lost your taste before, I was wrong. This is so cool, like a scene you take out of fairytales!"

"The scenery is aesthetically pleasing, but it's not comparable to the beauty I see in you."

Like a deer caught in headlights, Mokuba froze in his step. When he finally whirled around to face me with cheeks flushed and mouth agape, the baffled look in his eyes told me that for the first time in years, I stopped hiding behind the facade that had stolen my life. I was showing Mokuba my core, and we both knew what it meant, how much it weighed. Instead of burying my heart amid darkness and chaos for protection, I took up the healthier alternative and entrusted it with Mokuba, who would guard it with his life.

I walked towards the bank and leaned against the nearest willow, my eyes were on the waterfall in front of us. "You're looking at me like I'm drunk on some truth potion. I am in the right mind, it's just I've never brought anyone in here before. I guess I saw a watered-down version of you in all of this, maybe that's why I find it sacred. See the willows and how they blow in the wind? Your hair does that in an identical motion. And the water too, it's the exact same blue as your eyes. Even the waterfall, it calms me to watch it flow, and you naturally have that effect on me."

"…Nisama, I thought I was never gonna see this side of you again."

I gathered Mokuba into my arms. He looked like he needed to be held.

"Please don't dissipate on me like one of your holograms. Please don't let me hold you, only to have you slip through my fingers like smoke. Please don't leave me behind, all by myself… I'm not as strong as I appear to be, I need you to be here with me. I was so scared, you know, I thought I lost you to him forever. I thought I had let Gozaburo cheat you and others out of the rest of your life."

I cradled Mokuba close as he cried into my shoulder, sobs were choking his breath. "But you didn't, you won, because I'm still here, and I'm not going anywhere in a hurry. I don't think I want to now."

"I love you Seto, more than anything else in the world, so much that I'd cut out my heart and hand it over as proof if you asked for it. If I could, I would trade away my life for yours in a heartbeat, but I can't… I don't have the power to do that, I don't know how to reverse time and undo the damage. All I can do is love you, and never give up on you, so don't stop trying for yourself, promise me that."

"I do try, for the both of us. It's the reason I showed you this place. From now on, it will be our secret garden. Would you like that?"

"Un. Sorry…"Mokuba mumbled sheepishly, wiping away his tears. "I forgot to thank you for sharing it with me. I think I was a little dumbfounded because you were so nice to me. I missed that Seto so much."

"I know, kiddo, and I'm sorry."

There was a pause as Mokuba pondered over what I said, but it wasn't long before his eyes lit up with mischief. "I know what can compensate for that! We can plant the rose you gave me here, and watch it grow together? The flower has already withered, but the stalk should be able to renew itself no problem, as long as it's got enough water and soil and sunlight, and maybe it'll even flourish someday. "

I ruffled Mokuba's wild mane and smiled. "You are absolutely right. It's time we gave it a home."


	6. Chapter 6

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**Chapter 6**

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After reassuring for the nth time that I would be just fine – which further elaborated into posing no hazard to the self while being left alone – Mokuba stopped mother-henning me and went to work. I slumped back into the couch as the door clicked shut, a little caught off guard by the pang of hollowness in my chest. Somehow I got too used to the idea of the kid being around. Combing through my hair with my fingers, I quickly banished the thought of wanting him here. Mokuba wasn't my babysitter, and the company needed its CEO.

As surprising as it was, I held on until Mokuba's eighteenth birthday so he was old enough to step up and become the legitimate president of Kaiba Corp. He was capable of running it single-handedly at far younger an age. But I had to make sure his position was well-secured – more for my sake than his – in order to feel better about "going". My conscience whined that if I had gone through with the plan, my justification for it would've been nowhere near convincing. I hated to admit this, but however appropriate things felt at the time, hindsight showed that taking my own life was the wrong move.

Gozaburo had never been a choice. It was the only way to secure Mokuba's future, which I naively assumed led to his happiness. I soon learned that materialistic wealth was not the same as contentment in my brother's value system. It was true that Mokuba enjoyed running the business, in particular bringing joy to children and orphans like him from all over the planet. It went towards a noble course, but it wouldn't have been enough motivation for him to last, not with me dead.

Abandonment and isolation had always been persistent themes in my life, so I went to great lengths to make sure that Mokuba's didn't get screwed over the same way. If I were to suddenly kick off, not only would it destroy the purpose of everything I worked for, but Mokuba would be the one paying for my thoughtlessness. I wasn't about to jeopardize his well-being for something as trivial as this. So what if living was fucking with my comfort zones? Did I preserve in Mokuba, all the things I was not just so I could rip them out at the last second?

The answer was explicit, and I never once entirely believed in suicide for that very reason. It wasn't just self-preservation, or even stubbornness. I'd like to think I fell off the fence and into living for my own selfish gain. Hell, chickening out after catching sight of the ripper would've been an easier excuse, at least it sounded familiar. But the actual reason was neither.

For it was love.

It was our devotion in and of itself that had kept us alive. The closest analogy I could think of ran along the lines of those one-winged angels that people got all sentimental over. There were always two of them there in the picture, holding each other aloft, because for some ill-fated chance both got badly mutilated and was left with a single wing each. As long as they worked together, they were able to keep themselves in the air. I couldn't just lie down and die because Mokuba and I operated by that system. If I got sick of being broken winged and let go, Mokuba would head for the ground in a similar fashion and go splat.

I cringed, what a horrible image. But then I never said I was a fan of those paintings, just couldn't come up with a better way to explain something as touchy-feely as the notion of love.

Sometimes I couldn't help but to wonder if it was my fault that Mokuba was not able to fly solo. I wondered if I had wanted it that way, because I needed to be needed. I wondered if I actually tore that wing off myself.

I also wondered if Mokuba was attracted to me for the same reason, and whether he was in love with my damage. Mokuba thought he was to blame of course, except I knew better than to attribute all my fucked-upness to Gozaburo. Something was wrong with me right from the start. Call it genetic predisposition, call it a curse by name, the fact was I always saw the glass as half empty. I may not have lost the capacity to dream way back then, but I was never _not_ broken. It was like I was born incomplete.

Or maybe Mokuba was meant to be the other half of my soul.

I frowned, that thought was not reassuring. I was destructive by nature, had been blasting my way through problems for as long as I can remember. One wing or not, Mokuba was not like that. He had resilience and stability and most important of all, the ability to mend himself, for I had made sure of it even though that was about the only positive contribution I made to his life.

I was the one who grounded Mokuba's world, and unfortunately for him, I was also the sole element of chaos in his universe. I weighed up the pros and cons of us being stuck together, dangling in mid-air, and this time around it wasn't about me trying to fulfill a death wish in my brother's name. I was anticipating what Mokuba would do if I became too injured for him to carry, or too dysfunctional, because it all seemed so inevitable. I knew he would not be able to release his hold on me, even if we were no longer compatible, even with the knowledge that we would kill ourselves trying…

If I could not learn how to heal myself in time, Mokuba would self-destruct in order to stay with me until the end.

I didn't have an alternative, the only way out was through. I needed to get better, for Mokuba had made sure of it.

I buried my head in my hands and cursed.

* * *


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

* * *

It was storming. I was vegetating in the garden, getting drenched to the bone and loving it.

Mokuba liked rain, although his version was a different kind altogether. It consisted of cotton clouds squeezing a couple of drops here and there – the type that could hardly be felt, hardly be called rain, if at all, because the sun would still be out.

I snorted. It wasn't as much about rain as it was to do with the rainbow that almost inevitably followed suit. Mokuba would stare at it wistfully, ephemeral as it was, as if he made a wish then and there it would come true the next time one came about, or something to that effect. I would stare at him instead, wondering how in the world an eighteen-year-old managed to retain a heart-shaped face and starry eyes.

I preferred storms myself. Mokuba would undoubtedly scowl (if not hurl thunderbolts at me) for intentionally getting caught in the downpour _again_. I smirked smugly, even though guilt gnawed at my ego and I quickly muttered a mental apology. Such temperamental weather was rare to come about, I rationalized. The wind was howling and the torrents raging; I didn't have the heart to resist such an invitation, and Mokuba would really have to be here to understand.

But oh well, he'd get over it.

Getting soaked in the rain was as close to therapeutic as it got for me. Raising my face to the sky and letting the water fall, having it beat down on my body, and I would croak and splutter, and no one would ever be able to tell that I was really… because who could tell the difference between rain drops and tear drops anyway?

Rolling around in the mud, pulling grass out by the roots and thumping my head against a tree trunk because I could, because I was frozen and feeling too much and too little all at once. Because none of this made any sense, because I hadn't be able to say, or communicate anything, for the longest time. Because I was falling forever, all my life, because I kept on stalling for time and it was just a matter of switching off the life support. Because I had been very tired, Mokuba, because I am a coward and you are the only one who can release me from my promise. Because I miss you mom, because I hurt all over and nothing's really helping and I've had enough… why have you forsaken me?

I was sinking into the dirt, being buried under water, and ascending somewhere, like being carried away, by wings…

Warm… like Mokuba's sunny rain…

I blinked away confusion, it took some time for my eyes to adjust to the lighting and take in my surroundings. There was a sinking feeling in my stomach that something went horrendously wrong. "May I ask why we are naked in the shower with you draping over me like a thermal blanket?" I tried my best not to panic.

"Drink this, and for once, shut up and do as I say." It didn't take a genius to figure out that whatever had gone on, Mokuba was not impressed. I sipped on my miso, cringing as my brain raced to piece the broken fragments together, my head throbbed.

"Try not to think too much. Just relax, I'll fill in the gaps for you later. Are you warm enough?" A sigh, and Mokuba was pushing my bangs out of my eyes worriedly and pressing a kiss to my forehead. My eyes watered. I almost fucking pouted. My mind was too foggy to care.

We sat in silence for a while, before I decided to break it. "What happened?" I asked tentatively, "Was it that bad?"

Mokuba drew a shuddering breath, like he was being forced to remember a bad dream, and I impulsively reached for his hand which trembled in my grip. "I found you in the garden, paler and colder than the dead. You were in a breakdown, delirious as well as delusional. I took you inside. Your temperature was too low, and so was your blood sugar, which indicated that you've been out for too long. Your pulse was too fast, which wasn't surprising given the state you were in. You were slipping in and out of consciousness. You shook a lot. Your eyes were rolling back. I had to warm you up and calm you down. I didn't want to get the medics involved for your sake, you were lucky that it worked. Honestly, Nisama, how many times do you plan to stop my heart with your dying stunts?"

"I…" I closed my eyes.

"You know…" Mokuba spoke into my hair, stroking it absently, "I always thought of rainbows as bridges between us and the spirit world. It was really my only chance to plead to mom that she mustn't take you away from me, even if I ripped her away from your life. I knew that as long as rainbows kept on appearing, I would have her forgiveness… so she wouldn't take away my sunshine, when she renews her promise with each arc after the rain."

My throat tightened, I could never stand seeing Mokuba cry. "It's not a competition, Mokuba, it never has been. Mom gave me you in her passing. I don't deny that I miss her, but believe me when I say that she never wanted you to feel like it was your fault that she died. She loved both her sons. She made me promise on her deathbed that I'd love you the same way I loved her. I didn't have to choose."

Mokuba stayed silent, before squeezing my hand in return moments later. "Thanks. But don't think you're off the hook baka. Another incident like this, accidental or otherwise, and I'll have you put in charge of human resources just so to keep an eye on you 24-7."

I nuzzled Mokuba's neck in apology. "Next time I feel like venting and playing in the rain, I'll have a shower instead."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

* * *

The rest of the week was uneventful. I spent the majority of it working in my home office, after having been coerced into accepting the position of Vice President by Mokuba's corporate (as well as bedroom) skills. Apparently a home job devoid of immediate company demands was just what I needed for amusement. Having a source of absorption was beneficial, or so I was informed. Firstly, I would gain back the familiarity of routine. Secondly, my mind would be occupied enough to keep me out of harm's way, although given my workaholic tendencies, not too occupied was the ideal.

I couldn't shake off the feeling that I was turning into some bruise, whose main reason for existence was to be worried over.

In the end, Mokuba's mouth had been the deciding factor, as he yanked me down to crush his lips against mine and sucked any notion of sense out of me. The memory of him – hair mussed and eyes wild – was enough to make me snake one hand down south and keep it there. My back rubbed against the sheets as my fingers worked to release some of the tension in my jeans. The room was hot. It was getting hard to breathe. There were groans at the back of my throat despite my efforts to keep quiet. I got so worked up that I missed Mokuba's approaching footsteps, so when the door suddenly swung open, I almost bit through my lip in an attempt to hold still.

"And this is what you do when I leave you alone."

"Your fucking fault for being early." The breath I let out was shaky. I felt the heat in my cheeks and hated it.

"You can't expect me to walk in on you like that without wanting to ravish you."

"Please don't." But Mokuba was already loosening his tie and planting wet kisses down my neck. I pushed him off me until he sat back with a dissatisfied 'humph'. "How was work?"

"The usual stress. Sole highlight of my day was to overhear someone explaining to a newbie how lucky he is to have me. Apparently the elder Kaiba has anti-freeze in his blood, and his eyes can traumatize one for life."

"My reputation holds, and continues to instill fear in employees without actual enforcement." I hadn't heard news like this in a while, and couldn't help but to feel ridiculously pleased.

"The rest of them think that icy demeanor of yours is hot as hell. I argued in their favor, of course."

My face dropped. "You said what?"

"That's what they think, Nisama. You never get the feeling that people walk out of your office orgasmic?"

Instead of feeling smug, I was growing more and more disturbed. "Such a thought has never occurred to me, and isn't the sort of thing I'd like to investigate in the future."

"Honestly, people get off from just having to look at you."

I threw Mokuba a haughty glare, who looked like he was about to burst out laughing. "Should I be flattered?"

"You should, I'm trying to flirt with you."

That was the last straw, and I flipped us over with a growl. Mokuba was beginning to look a little too good for my liking. He barely had the chance to curse before I attacked his mouth with my own, my eyes slipping close as he flung his arms around my neck.

I deepened the kiss, hard, but Mokuba was nothing if not competitive. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and pushed his tongue down my throat. By then I was the one grunting into his mouth and being driven insane. When I broke away for air at last, Mokuba let out a frustrated moan.

"Nisama, your eyes are so blue I can swim in them…"

It was a twisted sort of compliment, but something about it didn't sit right with me. I shook my head, not really understanding why it felt that way, as red lights flashed and sirens went off at the back of my brain.

"…and go under, and never come back up."

"Don't do that. You'll miss out on the world."

Mokuba's laughter was half choked. "Screw the world, I have you."

I pulled away, as peripheral processing only got one so far with metaphors. When my head finally cleared up enough for Mokuba's words to register, I almost wished that they didn't.

"I wouldn't lose myself in me if I were you."

Mokuba twisted his hand in my hair. "I didn't mean anything by it."

"I didn't raise you for you to lose yourself in me."

Mokuba's eyes, which were glazed over before, were beginning to look frantic. "That's not what I meant. I was too caught up in the moment."

"I didn't get broken just so you can cut yourself with the pieces left over. If that's your way of honoring me, I'd rather have nothing at all."

With that, our sexual activity came to a screeching halt.

"Do you have to pick at every fucking scab you see? Or do you get some sick joy from tipping the apple cart?"

The accusation hung in the air, but I was suddenly too tired to brawl. "Mokuba… when you were little, you had trouble walking. Every time you fell over, I was there to watch you get back on your feet, but that was all I did. I never picked you up, nor did I help you to stay upright. You swayed and wobbled, and would fall flat on your face, only to keep trying, getting steadier each time."

"Deep breaths, finding balance, testing it, stumbling on... and that's how I learned to walk."

"Would you do the same for me?"

I felt the absence of Mokuba's weight, saw his hurt, and heard the door slam that marked his exit.

I would watch Mokuba fall, time and time again. The only thing that got me through those moments was the sheer belief that he'd be able to make it back up someday, somehow. Mokuba didn't have the same take on things. He preferred to catch me before my head connected with the ground.

I knew, all too well. It just wasn't the answer I was hoping for.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

* * *

Since our last encounter, Mokuba avoided me like the bubonic plague.

It took me three tries to come to terms to it myself, three attempts to make up my mind, then three more to hack into security and crack the code guarding his bedroom. When the door finally slid open, I ducked as a knife buried itself into the doorframe, narrowly missing my head. "What the fuck was that? You could've seriously injured me!" I snapped, feeling the adrenaline rush.

"Trust me, when it comes to hurting, no one can do it half as good as you."

As Mokuba walked past me, I grabbed a hold of his wrist, meeting his eyes, "I love-"

…and caught his fist before it made contact with my face.

"Don't say that, you don't. If you did, you wouldn't be treating me like I'm some dust on your coat that you can just brush off and forget. Once I'm of no more use to you, of course."

My blood boiled. Mokuba used himself to lure me into living, and now he was accusing me of tricking him into doing it? "Don't kid yourself. You were never in love in the first place. It was desperation."

He looked at me incredulously, "I was desperate for sex?"

I bowed my head in shame. "Not that, desperate to keep me alive. It was the only reason you went through with it, while you told yourself it was love. You talked yourself into having feelings for me, but it didn't actually happen."

"It may have been an accident, it may not have been what I was intending to do, but that doesn't mean anything! Don't you understand? It doesn't matter how I got here, the fact is I am here, at your feet. I've fallen for you. I go nuts over you. I'm turning into a baka because of it, and you tell me that this isn't real?"

My mouth twisted into a scowl. "You were always good at pretending, but you shouldn't have slipped that far into the role."

"Tell me this, Seto, if I didn't believe it whole-heartedly, how the fuck was I supposed to convince _you_?"

I flinched. It was a fairytale Mokuba fabricated on my behalf, and it was my fault that he was stuck spellbound. For a split of a second, I was tempted to keep up the illusion, ironically for his sake this time as opposed to mine. As guilt washed over me, I gritted my teeth and forced that option out of my head. "You realize that all we had was just an act gone wrong. Nothing more, nothing less."

"I know you don't make a habit of sugar coating things, but did you have to break it to me… so relentlessly?"

I turned Mokuba to face me, crushing him against my chest as I did so. "I'm sorry. I've tried, but there's no way to justify this, to justify 'us', other than admitting that neither you nor I is normal, and I can't let that happen. The plan was so you can be normal. You remember, way back then? We can't normalize this, because you are normal, you just have to be, and I won't allow anything or anyone to get in the way of that. I love you too much. I gave up too much…"

"Me too. I was just trying to love you, in however way I could."

"It's called incest. It's not okay."

"But being sane and being involved with you – they don't have to be mutually exclusive."

"I have yet to see a scenario where that is made plausible."

"Fine, I'll give you one. It was your darkness that kept my sanity intact. I want to be protected from reality always."

"Bouncing around the world in a bubble that's designed to destroy you, you mean. Is that the way you want to live?"

Mokuba pressed his lips to mine, lingering a touch too long. "I don't know how else to do it. I've always lived for you, always indulged myself in you."

I felt the pressure on my mouth, felt the shivers down my spine, the tightening of my stomach. I felt the leap of my heart, and it felt right, in all the wrong ways.

It was an argument perfected by its own imperfections. I needed to stop deluding us both.

"It's not just wrong because we are related, or that we are both men. It's wrong… because it's dependency – addictive, destructive dependency." Each word was spat out like something broken, as salty tears – kept in check for as long as I could remember – streamed down my face. "Because losing myself in your pain doesn't hurt as much, and fighting your demons doesn't seem to be as frightening as fighting my own. But we can't go on like this, Mokuba. There's no love for life here. I'm only rejecting death on the premise that you need me to stay alive. That's the wrong reason to live. We have to take the right route this time, not the quick fix, nor the easy way out."

"Does that mean we are not together anymore?"

"Kiddo, we never were." It killed me to say it. But if we lived through this, nothing would be able to shake us, ever again.

Mokuba cried into my shirt. "Don't say that. I'll die."

I wiped his tear away with my thumb. "You won't. I promise you, just like I promised you years back that nothing will separate us. Please trust me, just one more time."

"Nisama, hold me. Don't say anything, just do it, and do it like you mean it."

I complied. We held each other for as tight as we could, and just as long, before falling to the floor in a heap. We were overtaken by grief, but we had hit rock bottom, and even with the walls caving in, the skies full of ash, even as we ourselves were deteriorating, there would only be up from here. We were crying, and I was still holding Mokuba, but that ceased to matter. I wasn't ready to let him go just yet. I needed a moment, with him, in my arms.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

* * *

I still had a promise to fulfill before I flew out in the morning.

As I sprinkled stream water and smoothed over the last bit of earth that was dug up, Mokuba placed his hands over mine. "Stop stressing so much, it's gonna be just fine."

"It looks half-dead," I blurted out.

"Shhh… It's been through a lot, that's all."

"Why did we have to keep this? We could've picked a fresh one and planted it."

"But where's the challenge in that? Even as we are starting over, it's the past that makes us what we are. That rose is our struggles as well as our triumphs, ne?"

"Right now it's a crooked stick with spikes."

"Patience, Seto. Like you said, by the time it flowers again, you will have found yourself and come back to tend it with me. In the mean time, leave the rose and our garden to my care."

"As long as you don't send kidnappers after me when you feel like seeing Nisama; I want to stay out of touch for a while."

"Oh screw you." Mokuba snatched the key from my hand, looking distraught. I took off my coat, wrapped it around his slumped shoulders and carried him to our sleeping site. Out of habit, his arms came up to rest about my neck. "I feel like Nisama's bride."

"Something tells me that's not such a good idea."

"I'm not implying a romantic relationship, just saying." Mokuba pursed his lips. "Shut up. I'm never too old to babble, or sulk, for that matter."

With my back against a willow and Mokuba settled in my lap, I pulled him close. "Mokuba, I want to apologize to you. It's something I should've done a long time ago."

"What for?"

"I… I chose Gozaburo because I wanted to make things better for you. I now see how counterproductive it had been and just how badly you'd been hurt, despite what I intended. I don't know what else I could've done, and I had no idea then either. Please forgive me."

"Sometimes it's not about doing the right thing, but the best thing, and that, you did well."

"Did well? Do you not know a monster when you see one?"

"I am who I am because of the person you gave up. Gozaburo could never touch me."

"But I did. I became something lower, filthier." I turned my head away. "You don't need that."

"Only I can decide that. I know the possibility of hurting me terrified you. You never wanted to be in my life if you were going to bring me harm, and that was the real reason you contemplated suicide. You thought that if you stayed away from trying to repair things between us, that if you were gone for good, you would not be able to cause me further damage. But you let your fear of hurting me color your judgment. When you told yourself that you wouldn't be missed because you were a horrible thing in my life, you took away my right by making that decision on my behalf. Missing the Nisama I knew had always been a living, breathing ache, but nothing could hurt me more than losing you altogether. Do you understand?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Yes, I do."

"The thought of never seeing you again… Seto, I've never been so afraid."

"I'm sorry. I know how poor my judgment was and is."

"That is not true, and even if is, it doesn't define who you are. All I want is for you to forgive yourself. You don't have to be sorry, so please don't feel guilty anymore." Mokuba took my face into his hands. "You are beautiful. I would tell you to never doubt that, but you are right. If you discover that for yourself, then you won't ever forget. I'm accepting your choice, Nisama. I have your back covered, so walk without fear into the future that belongs to you."

I took Mokuba's fingers and pressed them to my lips. "Thank you. I've got something for you, turn your head."

Illuminated by drops of liquid fire, my light beamed. "Oh wow… Fireflies? They are my favorite!"

"Pinpoints of light, no matter how small, means that one is no longer shrouded in total darkness. If I recall correctly, these creatures are your definition of hope."

We smiled at each other in mutual understanding.

Mokuba snuggled up to me and yawned. Events of the past week were taking a toll on him. We had driven each other to our respective breaking points. We were also stubborn enough to make fate think twice the next time she dared to meddle with our affairs. It wasn't long before Mokuba's breathing slowed to become even. I clipped the holographic generator onto his locket, turning it on, before leaning him against the newly materialized Kisara. If leaving Mokuba reopened an old wound, someone had to be there to make sure he didn't stay bleeding forever, and who better than the dragon I programmed with mom's temperament?

"Mokuba will be all right," said the Blue-Eyes White Dragon.

"Is it really all right to leave him like this?" I mused out loud.

"Mokuba is more ready than you think, Seto, and now it is time for you to begin your own journey."

"Without the brother I fell in love with." I nodded. His angelic features, gentle heart, and the light of his soul…

None of which were mine to begin with.

My gaze lingered on Mokuba's sleeping face. My eyes stung. My vision blurred.

I was thinking of birds being pushed out of nests and people trying to walk again on broken legs.

I saw a rose, fighting against the odds for another chance to flourish.

I saw a dragon, rising from the ruins to soar in the sky once more.

"Aishiteru, Mokuba. I will always love you."

Clenching my locket, I strode forward and completed the most perfect ending I could hope for.


End file.
